Two North Texas faith leaders are locked in a legal battle over the naming rights of their churches. At issue is whether an upstart church, Lift Frisco, is infringing on the trademarked name of LIFT Community Church in Trinity Groves in West Dallas.

The conflict is testing each side's faith in the law.

For Shante´ Buckley, that means upholding the trademark she won for the LIFT church she founded nearly two years ago in West Dallas.

For Grant Diamond, poised to launch Lift Frisco later this month, it means defending the brand he's been building for more than a year.

On Tuesday, Diamond won the first round when a state district judge in Collin County denied Buckley's request for a temporary restraining order to force Diamond to stop using the name. A permanent injunction hearing is set next week.

Grant Diamond, posing in front of Frisco City Hall, is locked in a court battle over the name of his new church, Lift Frisco.

(Vernon Bryant/Staff Photographer)

Buckley, 46, was disappointed the TRO wasn't granted. "I thought it was pretty clear. I invested the time and money in getting one and this church came in at the 11th hour, " she said.

(I must point out here — as I did to Diamond — that I have a relative who's a partner in a major law firm that's providing pro bono legal help to Buckley.)

Diamond, 28, said he's willing to mediate the dispute rather than duke it out in court, but he expressed no desire to drop "Lift."

"We've invested tens of thousands of dollars at this point in establishing a brand in our city as Lift Frisco," he said. "Excellence matters, so if you're going to start a church or business, you need to arrive with excellence. Part of excellence is establishing a compelling brand."

That's what Buckley set out to do when she hired an attorney to trademark LIFT Community Church, which was registered this year by the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. She has several other applications pending for the name LIFT, including LIFT Frisco.

This isn't a novel step for churches to take. Newer churches began safeguarding their brands years ago. A few other churches across the country are named "Lift," but none locally.

"I'm not concerned about that," Buckley said. "I did it for this area. ... I don't plan on suing everybody that has the name, no."

Pastor Shan'té Buckley speaks at LIFT Community Church in Dallas on Sunday, January 7, 2018. The church was founded in 2015 and officially launched in 2016. (Vernon Bryant/The Dallas Morning News)

(Vernon Bryant/Staff Photographer)

Buckley's worried that Diamond's church will create confusion. Her church, which operates out of the Culinary Events Center in Trinity Groves, has parishioners from across North Texas, including Frisco.

Diamond said he doesn't see Buckley's church as a rival. He's plans to officially launch Lift Frisco on Jan. 21 in the auditorium of Cobb Middle School — which is closed for school business on Sundays.

"I would welcome another church called Lift Church right next to me because I don't see churches as competition," Diamond said. "I'd keep running in my lane."

Buckley, a St. Louis native, began planting the seed for her ministry in 2015, in part because she wanted to shepherd her own flock as a senior pastor. She held regular "Bible and Biscuits" services before launching LIFT last Easter.

She picked the current location first because she saw a lot of families being displaced by the gentrification underway in West Dallas and a lot of new families with no roots in the area. Her multicultural flock includes "Toyota executives to a woman who sleeps in her car," she said.

"I felt like we were doing good work here and really making a difference," she said.

Now she's worried that her legal battle will overshadow that.

"I really want the story to be about what's happening in the city and making a difference and changing the Christian narrative," she said.

What's intriguing is how much both Buckley and Diamond want to reinvent worship service to attract new members who've grown disillusioned.

A married father of a 19-month-old son, Diamond is trying to pull millennials into the fold.

"I grew up like many people, especially in this part of the world, in a religious home," he said. "I knew church, but I didn't know God. That's what made me want to start a new church. I feel like my generation especially has said 'no' to church but haven't necessarily said 'no' to God."

Buckley's hoping to send a message that everyone — black, Asian, white or Latino and regardless of gender or sexual orientation — is welcome in her ministry.

"We're not just saying, 'come to church.' ... We're trying to woo people who want to live the message."

Buckley lives in Cedar Hill with a 10-year-old niece she's raising. She's married to her work. She planned to go to law school before she felt called to ministry. She sees LIFT Community Church as a mobile ministry, not a single stationary place of worship: "Our intentions were never to only be in West Dallas."

The legal battle poses a modern-day twist on the Biblical tale of King Solomon threatening to settle a custody battle between two women both claiming to be a child's mother by threatening to split the baby in half.